I’m sitting at Backspace Cafe in Portland listening to a Dad play Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out with his son. My Dad grew up in Nazi Germany during WWII. He never really figured out the best way to show his love for his son, but one of the ways he tried was taking me to arcades to play video games. I haven’t consciously thought of it before, but I have to wonder if one the reasons I was so driven to make games originally was to somehow re-capture that pseudo-closeness. It would be very interesting to ask him what he remembers of those times.